


Walkin' Back To Georgia (And I Hope She Will Take Me Back)

by touch



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Confessions, First Time, Frottage, Getting Together, I'm dedicated, M/M, Oral Sex, getting all the sex tags out of the way first, yes i researched japanese condom and lube brands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22808752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/touch/pseuds/touch
Summary: It wasn’t like Kuroo didn’t see Yaku often since they graduated. On the contrary, the Nekoma third years not only had an active group chat, but usually made an effort to meet up at least once a month. Kuroo saw and talked to Yaku pretty often, even if it was in a group setting, so it was a wonder why his hands shook when he noticed Yaku in the stands during one of his college matches.Or: Kuroo has carried a torch for Yaku since second year. Yaku finally catches up.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Yaku Morisuke
Comments: 10
Kudos: 273





	Walkin' Back To Georgia (And I Hope She Will Take Me Back)

**Author's Note:**

> I've been really upset since two of my favorite KuroYaku fics got deleted, so I'm making it up to myself by writing an incredibly self indulgent getting together fic. This is literally my top HQ!! ship and I need more of them.  
> Title from Walkin' Back To Georgia by Jim Croce

It wasn’t like Kuroo didn’t see Yaku often since they graduated. On the contrary, the Nekoma third years not only had an active group chat, but usually made an effort to meet up at least once a month. Kuroo saw and talked to Yaku pretty often, even if it was in a group setting, so it was a wonder why his hands shook when he noticed Yaku in the stands during one of his college matches.

He didn’t let is affect his playing, which he didn’t do a whole lot of as a freshman, but he couldn’t stop feeling Yaku’s eyes on him. When he did get to play, switching with their libero for a few rotations, he kept his blocks tight, his singular spike strong despite the weight of Yaku’s gaze on his shoulders. He was buzzing with delight by the time he switched back with their libero, face stretched wide with a smile as his teammates slapped his back. For a brief, helpless second, Kuroo looked once more at the stands, at Yaku.

As far as he could see, Yaku was smiling, sitting alone yet focused on the game, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. He looked good, as good as Kuroo remembered, if not better. His hair was a little messy, but it suited him, and Kuroo kind of hated how he could still look hot like that. Kuroo wanted to run his hands through it. 

Suddenly, Yaku’s eyes met his and Kuroo knew he’d been caught staring. They were too far away from each other to tell, but Kuroo thought Yaku might have blushed, his eyes widening comically after registering Kuroo’s stare. Kuroo thought he’d die with he way his heart rabbited in his chest at the idea of Yaku blushing. Because of him. 

Then, Yaku’s face curled in a cheeky, Lev-esque smile, and Kuroo felt genuine fear at the uncanny resemblance. 

-

After the game, Kuroo turned immediately to where Yaku had been in the stands, seeing him walk casually down the bleachers. His smile was soft now, relaxed and much more like himself. 

“Must suck to not get a lot of game-time play,” Yaku said mildly, stopping in front of Kuroo, tilting his head upwards. “Since you used to start every game as captain. Big change.”

Though Yaku hadn’t said it maliciously, the fact still stung. So did the fact that Yaku was his own university’s starting libero. He felt behind, less-than, unneeded. He shoved it all away though. “It’s a change, but I’ll get used to it. Besides, I learn a lot.”

Yaku hummed. “It was a good game, though. You did a good job.”

“Thanks,” Kuroo laughed, unable to keep the blush from his face. “Nice of you to drop by.”

“Kai was planning to come, too, but he got held up with his job,” Yaku said. “I figured I could still go alone. Support you, or whatever.”

Kuroo nodded a silent thanks and a long silence filled the space between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it said more than Kuroo wished it did. It said everything Kuroo had been feeling since second year, when he’d realized his feelings. It said everything Yaku hadn’t felt until after graduation, after Kuroo had confessed. It said everything Kuroo’s tears hadn’t after going home, rejected and defeated. It was now that the air buzzed with their mutuality, telling Kuroo that maybe, just maybe, Yaku had just been a little behind, but he’d finally caught up. The way he texted Kuroo in their group chat with Kai, a little more flirtatious than he could’ve expected from Yaku, the way he responded to Kuroo’s jabs with grace, the way he started texting Kuroo _goodnight_ every night, the way Kuroo texted it back and stared at it with a goofy smile until he fell asleep — it all filled him up until he was about to burst with joy. 

The silence broke when a teammate interrupted, asking Kuroo a question about their next practice. When he turned from his teammate back to Yaku, he bit his lip to keep his smile from growing. Yaku’s expression was hesitant, hopeful, and Kuroo felt his whole body sing with it.

“Yakkun,” he said quietly. The nickname make Yaku jump a little, as though he’d forgotten it. His eyes blinked up at Kuroo, wide and ready. “You wanna get some coffee? I just need to shower.”

Yaku’s face lit up, cheeks glowing red across the bridge of his nose, sputtering a half-hearted, overly-tense laugh. “Jeez, Kuroo, it sounds like you’re asking me on a date.”

Bluntly, Kuroo said, “I am.” 

No room for misinterpretation, Yaku’s nervous smile fell. Then, after a panic-inducing second of hesitation, he nodded, swallowing. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Kuroo beamed. More than anything, he wanted to reach out and touch Yaku, to feel his skin and his warmth. Instead he smiled, “Okay. I’ll be out in a few, you can wait on the bleachers.”

-

Kuroo expected their walk to the coffee shop to be silent, awkward, but Yaku came to life instead. He asked Kuroo about his classes, even though he knew from the group chat, shared his own updates on life, things Kuroo also knew. It was nice to hear it from Yaku’s mouth, hear it in his voice, though. Yaku’s eyes were defiantly soft, voice smooth and smile sweet, it almost made Kuroo reach out to take Yaku’s hand and press his lips to the chapped skin of his knuckles. 

Kuroo ordered a caramel cappuccino for himself, pushing Yaku until he orders his own cinnamon Americano, reminding him that this is a date with a quiet nudge of his elbow. They sit comfortably at one of the tables, clutching their coffees and smiling shyly at each other. It almost felt like this was their first time meeting, like they hadn’t spend three years of high school as teammates and close friends, like Kuroo hadn’t spent two of those years pining after Yaku, dreaming of him, looking at him. 

When a long silence stretched between them, the air filled with their hesitant, sweet stares, Kuroo thought that he could do this forever. 

“I’m sorry,” Yaku said eventually, eyes flicking down to the cafe table. 

For a moment, Kuroo’s chest leapt with panic, thinking that Yaku’s next words would be _I can’t do this_. His dreams of holding Yaku close, kissing his neck just to feel him shiver, looking into his eyes before they fall asleep together—it all started to splinter and Kuroo feared he would be cut by their sharp edges. 

Heart in his throat, showing on his face, Kuroo asked with a tight laugh, “For what?”

A sadness crumpled Yaku’s face and Kuroo felt his bones ache with it. His mouth opened and closed with his passing thoughts, visibly trying to sort them out, before he sighed, “For not responding. When you confessed.” Yaku swallowed, eyes finally moving back to Kuroo’s, and it sent a flash of horror through him to realize they were wet, getting wetter. “I’m sorry for taking so long.”

“Yakkun,” Kuroo gasped, brain desperately pushing to tell Yaku _no_. His own eyes began to ache with the threat of tears, heart breaking at the thought of Yaku crying over this, over taking time to meet Kuroo halfway. “Yakkun—Morisuke, don’t.”

The sound of his given name sent a gasp through Yaku, a flush of humiliation and affection lighting his face. 

“Don’t ever be sorry,” Kuroo whispered, a calm desperation seeping into his words. “If it took you forever to come around or realize, I would wait. I would wait my entire life for you.”

A laugh coughed from Yaku’s chest, quick tears emerging and falling away, almost as though they’d never been there. He sniffed, “I just wish I’d realized sooner. I wasted so much time.”

“It’s never a waste,” Kuroo said, wet smile stretching. 

Again, they let a quiet wash over them, and Kuroo wished the table wasn’t between them. Instead of jumping over it to pull Yaku closer, Kuroo settled for pressing their ankles together, internally preening at the warmth of Yaku’s skin. Yaku smiled wider. 

“Wanna come back to my place?” Yaku asked, slow. 

\- 

When Yaku’s door closed, Kuroo moved in, taking Yaku’s jaw in his hands and letting his breath fan over Yaku’s mouth, feeling it tremble between them before pressing their lips together. Yaku let out a saccharine sigh through his nose, flattening his hands against Kuroo’s chest, over his heart. Their kiss stayed sweet, Yaku bringing his arms up around Kuroo’s neck and humming into it. 

“You know,” Yaku said, breaking the kiss to look low-lashed at Kuroo, “I used to think you’d be a terrible kisser.”

Kuroo moved his mouth to press kisses to Yaku’s cheek, nose, chin, pulse. “Oh, yeah?” he asked. “What about now?”

Yaku’s breath stuttered and Kuroo could feel a moan struggle in his throat as he tongued at his Adam’s apple. “Now,” he said, all breath, “I think I might owe Tora money.”

Kuroo’s kissing and teasing skidded to a halt with that, laughter peeling through his body, forehead leaning defeated on Yaku’s giggling shoulder. “You would.”

They wound up cuddling in Yaku’s bed, TV turned onto some weird reality show, only background noise while they kissed lazily and whispered nonsense to each other. Kuroo took long minutes to just stare at Yaku’s face, the slope of his nose and the creamy brown of his eyes. He’d dreamed about those eyes, dreamed of them looking back at him and shining with the same happiness. As he pulled Yaku in for another kiss, tongue curling against his hard palette, he supposed dreams can come true. 

Kuroo seriously debated whether or not to fall asleep in Yaku’s arms, basking in the warmth of his body and the sweetness of his voice. Morning practices looked less and less appealing the more his body relaxed against Yaku’s steadily breathing chest, but Yaku grinned and shoved Kuroo up, ushering him to the door. 

“Jeez, Yakkun, seems like you want to get rid of me,” Kuroo said, eye sliding accusatorially as a sly smile took his mouth.

Laughing, Yaku pushed him again, “No, far from it. _But_ the sooner you leave and get to sleep, the sooner we can see each other tomorrow.” 

With one last drawn out kiss, tongue and hands and breaths mingling and touching, Kuroo left Yaku’s dorm to go to his own bed. While attempting to fall asleep, he touched his lips with his fingertips, smiling stupidly, giddily. He stared quietly at his most recent text from Yaku: _I don’t even mind that I have to pay Tora ¥100 next time we see each other_. He texted back: _That’s what you get for doubting me. Goodnight Yakkun_. He fell into a dreamless sleep that night, the memory of small hands on his chest and shoulders sending him. His phone buzzed shortly after: _Night, Tetsu._

-

Their relationship went fast, like making up for lost time. Just three nights after their first kiss, Kuroo pulled Yaku close and pressed his hand to Yaku’s ass, grinding them together until they both stuttered and gasped. Only later that night, Yaku crowded Kuroo against the shower wall, whispered _Tetsu_ before dropping to his knees and swallowing all of Kuroo. One more week and Kuroo was pressing his fingers into Yaku, rubbing and prodding until Yaku tensed, yelped, came across his stomach. Then, shortly after, Kuroo was coming undone beneath Yaku’s tongue inside him, gasping like he had no air, uncaring like he didn’t know what air was. 

Now, standing in the aisle in the convenience store staring at the selection of condoms and proper lube felt somewhat like a death sentence. Kuroo was sure that he’d never recover from fucking Yaku properly, that he’d be ruined for anyone else. He couldn’t even imagine how bad it would be when Yaku fucked _him—_ he shivered at the thought. For now, though, they stood side-by-side, shoulders parted with an inch of breath, close enough to feel warmth, far enough to keep suspicions down, 

“I think,” Yaku whispered, face on fire, “these ones should be okay.” He pointed to the Okamoto Zero Ones, the red packaging like a flare. “I’ve seen them in my cousin’s room before.”

Kuroo, desperate to get on with the horrifying experience of buying condoms for the first time, snatched the Zero Ones along with the Okamoto Zero One Rich Lubricant. Kuroo checked out first, making no eye contact with the bored cashier, asking for a paper bag quietly. He left the store in wait of Yaku, who was in charge of buying their dinner for the night. 

“That was so embarrassing,” Kuroo whined, shoving his face in his hands when Yaku emerged as red as the Okamoto boxes. 

Yaku put a consoling hand on his shoulder, dragging it along his arm to clasp his hand, pull it from his face. His smile settled the shame in Kuroo’s chest. “Back to your place?” he asked, brow quirked softly yet suggestively.

-

Yaku was glorious covered in sweat and breathing hard. Kuroo had known this since they both became starters for Nekoma in second year, seeing how ethereal he was after a full game dripping. Now, though, it held something more for Kuroo, two fingers to the knuckle inside of Yaku as he gasped and moaned helplessly. 

“Tetsu,” he whined, “Tetsu, please.”

“Okay,” Kuroo whispered. He wished he could be coy, teasing, ask Yaku _Please what?_ and make Yaku beg for it. He didn’t have it in him, though, ready to give Yaku anything and everything he asked for. He teased a third finger over Yaku’s entrance, feeling it relax before pushing in, committing Yaku’s responsive _hah!_ to memory.

Yaku swore loudly when Kuroo curled his fingers into his prostate, “Fuck, Tetsu, please, I’m ready, fuck me.” 

Dumbly, Kuroo nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I got you, Mori.” Carefully, he pulled his fingers from Yaku’s body and grabbed a foil packet. The slide of the condom was a bit uncomfortable, but he stroked himself to take some of the tenseness from his shoulders, looking down at Yaku. 

For a second he just stared, taking in the red flush on Yaku’s chest that took over his neck and ears, the dark, lusty quality of his eyes, lidded and lashed. Yaku was perfect. Kuroo felt a pang in his chest as the quick, terrifying thought of _I love him_ flashed in his brain. He swallowed it down, reminding himself that it had only been a month, that he couldn’t blurt it out so soon, that he would ruin everything. So, instead of whispering his love into Yaku’s skin until it tattooed itself there, he leaned down into the sweet cradle of Yaku’s hips and thighs. 

They didn’t look away from each other as Kuroo slid in, torturously slow. Yaku’s mouth dropped open at the feel of Kuroo stretching him so wide, hands clutching at the sides of Kuroo’s face. Kuroo bottomed out and let out a helpless sound as he dropped his head to Yaku’s shoulder. His mouth moved automatically, biting and sucking possessive marks into Yaku’s collarbone, the base of his neck.

“Kuroo,” Yaku said, high pitched and tight, “God. Move.”

Once Kuroo started moving, everything fell apart and into place. Kuroo, to his own surprise, kept a consistent rhythm, arm wrapped under the curve of Yaku’s lower back to grant him the angle that make Yaku make the most noise. He made low, punched moans with each thrust, and Yaku couldn’t seem to stop babbling, telling Kuroo how good he was, how good he felt, to not stop, that _oh, God_ , he was going to come. Possessed, Kuroo reached his other hand and wrapped it around Yaku, stroking in time with the movement of his hips, earning long, obviously pleasured moans. 

“Oh, fuck, Kuroo, I’m—“ 

Yaku tightened around Kuroo like a vice, shouting loud to the ceiling and jerking his hips into Kuroo’s, trying to get him deeper, trying to angle him into his prostate, trying to ride out the movements as he came up his chest before all his muscles went slack. Kuroo stilled, despite everything in him telling him to continue fucking Yaku until he came. He waited until Yaku’s eyes opened, cleared, softened at the sight of Kuroo. 

“Do you want me to pull out?” Kuroo asked. “Or keep going?”

“I don’t think I can handle you fucking me anymore,” Yaku said, breathless.

Kuroo nodded and pulled himself from Yaku as carefully as he could. Yaku winced infinitesimally, but chided Kuroo when he began to ask if he was hurt. He pulled the condom from Kuroo’s cock, setting it beside them with the empty foil wrapper before reaching to stroke Kuroo. 

Kuroo’s entire body trembled, breath harsh and brow dripping with sweat. Yaku’s hand on him pulled a terrifyingly tender noise from his chest, going faster until Kuroo felt it swell in his hips and burst in his chest. He let his orgasm sweep him away, finding his comfort in the curve of Yaku’s chest as he shook and swore and pulsed in Yaku’s hand.

Yaku whispered into his hair, “That was…very good.”

After a long second, Kuroo asked, “Do you owe Tora more money?”

Yaku’s chest bounced with his laugh. “Actually, he owes _me_ money, now.”

They both burst into gentle giggles, Kuroo muttering about their pesky kouhai, kissing across Yaku’s face and neck and chest. They waited several minutes before Yaku forced Kuroo to get up, ushering them both to his bathroom for clean up. 

-

A month or so after their first time was Valentine’s Day, which Yaku brushed off despite giving Kuroo chocolates and accepting Kuroo’s gift of a geeky science shirt. So, one week after Valentine’s Day, Kuroo dragged Yaku from his dorm to a decent restaurant, dressed moderately nice and wafting a hint of cologne when he moved. At dinner, they sat quietly and spoke of their days, the people who were particularly annoying them, their old teammates. 

“Kenma told me that Tora is avoiding me so he doesn’t have to give me my two hundred yen,” Yaku said, mouth twisted in a pout. “Sore loser.”

“Well, next time you two will know not to bet on how good I am in bed,” Kuroo laughed. “Not your best judgement, Yakkun.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “You love me anyway.”

Kuroo’s heart stuttered, but his face remained unfazed aside from a fond smile. Yeah, he thought, I do. 

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I keep comments moderated, but they're encouraged and wanted!!


End file.
